The Demon and Doctor Spengler
by WinterFrost15
Summary: When workers at a local museum mysteriously disappear, the Ghostbusters decide to investigate. Little do they know that an ancient force of incredible power has awakened, seeking to drag our world into unending chaos. To make matters worse...this powerful spirit has chosen one of their own as its agent of darkness. (Sequel of sorts to "Hard to Break")
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Dennis Payne, known to almost everyone as simply "Denny," was working late at the museum when he had his encounter with the Demon.

It had been near midnight - 11:50 pm to be precise - and Denny, along with his fellow workers, had been restoring forgotten tunnels and long-abandoned rooms beneath what was now the New York Museum of World History. It was a basement of sorts which was nowadays used to store miscellaneous artifacts of questionable and perhaps rare value. In some rooms there were models of dinosaur bones, halfway pieced together by the museum's archaeologists in training. In others, items of Egyptian or Aztec origin sat collecting cobwebs, sarcophagi and sacrificial daggers mingling with spiders and dust.

Many rooms, however, were not used, and therefore were generally avoided and eventually, forgotten about, by the people of the Museum. It was among these forbidden alcoves in which Denny and his friends found themselves on the night of September 22, 1984. The first day of the fall equinox.

* * *

It had been a rough day so far for the restoration crew at the World History Museum. For hours they had worked to improve the basement's structural integrity, install new support beams, and salvage any part of the remaining edifice that they could. The whole process had been grueling to say the least, and Denny was finally starting to feel an ache in his bones because of it.

"Rotten work so far, aye Robbie?" he called up to his friend and partner Robert "Robbie" Calhoune. Denny himself was currently dangling by a rope and harness over the edge of a theater balcony - a theater which was purported to have been built in the thirties and had had the existing museum built around it some time ago. Being that the theater had already been halfway underground to begin with, the walls and corridors that surrounded it today had been somewhat easier to construct.

"It ain't all bad, Dens," Robbie called back, his cheerful, rosy face and tidy brown hair popping into view. "At least we's gettin' paid, and fed to boot!"

Denny chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "A few lousy paychecks and some cold deli sandwiches from the Museum lunchroom. Big whoop."

"Hey, at least it's somethin'," Robbie countered, also laughing. "Now quit 'cha moanin' and start workin' them fingers of yours, ya big lug! We's still got a lotta' work to do, and only so much time to do it."

Denny rolled his eyes. As if he needed Robbie to tell him his job. Honestly, the nerve of some people!

With a twirling motion of his forefinger, Denny signaled his partner to lower him farther. One of the support pillars holding part of the upper stage arch in place was weak in several areas - so it was Denny's job to reassess the damage, take measurements and record his findings. The carpenters and professional builders would see to the rest.

Gently Robbie cranked the winch, lowering Denny towards another problem spot on the paint-chipped, limestone pillar. Denny, notepad in hand, scribbled out some quick observations before pulling out a ruler and marking the exact size of the fissure which he now faced. As far as he could tell, it had either been weather-worn or suffered from the effects of an earthquake, thus causing it to deteriorate. Water often leaked into the basement after heavy storms (water which had given the team many problems in the past weeks) so his conclusions felt plausible enough. Still, one had to make sure, and examine every minute detail down to the minerals.

"Fourteen inches," Denny shouted. "Maybe three inches deep. This one's a killer, Robbie."

Silence.

Then. . .

_"Geeeetttt oooouuuuttttt. . ." _

Denny glanced up in confusion. "Robbie?" he called. "Was that you?"

Robbie did not answer, nor could Denny see him. Annoyed, Denny tugged on the rope that held him suspended in the air. "C'mon, Robert, this ain't funny. Pull me up."

As he waited he glanced down below him, and suddenly realized that the dozen or so men who had been working in the theater had vanished. Not a trace remained of them except the occasional tool or machine scattered here and there, indicating where the others had previously been. Had the boss called a coffee break or something and Denny hadn't realized it? No, that was impossible. His boss was a loud fellow who always made himself heard whether people wanted him to or not - if he had called for a break, Denny would've heard him. So what had happened?

Then the low, whispering hiss of a voice came again, seeming to come from right beside his ear.

_"Yoouu shhhooouuuld nooot beee heeeerrre," _it warned him.

"Go to hell!" Denny yelled and, closing his eyes, unhooked himself from the rope. He fell some fifteen feet to the stage, landing in a crumpled heap. His arm and stomach hurt and his head rung, but he otherwise felt fine.

Scrambling up quickly, he got back on his feet and looked around wildly. All around him echoed laughter, a sinister, inhuman sound that chilled him to his core. Finally he turned and ran. He had to find the other guys, but mostly importantly, he had to get away from this cursed place. The Museum curators had been right after all, he realized . .the basement _was _haunted by the Demon!

_"You shall never leave here alive, Dennis Payne," _the wretched creature hissed with sudden clarity in its tone.

That was when Denny felt a sharp weight against his back, the force knocking him to the ground. He tried to squirm free but it was no use. He knew the Demon had him.

He had just enough time to let out a scream before utter darkness blotted out his soul.

**Author's Note:**

**Hello again! So, the Demon and Dr. Spengler is finally here! I hope this prologue sparks some interested parties. :3 **

**I shall probably post whenever I finish a chapter, so delays may vary. Hopefully this will get my muse up enough to write more for this fandom! I have other projects I'm currently working on as well, so bear with me while I try to finish/continue those. I will not abandon this one, however! The idea of it has just been so nagging - to quit now would be preposterous, fellow Busters. :) **


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_September 26th, 1984, four days after the Museum incident. . ._

The noon sunlight glinted off the impressive red structure that was the Ghostbusters Firehouse. A stray beam illuminated the sign, causing the ghost emblem to glow a beautiful, blinding white. Around the Firehouse people drifted by, some looking up at the building as they passed, others walking on, unaware and uninterested.

Inside, the Firehouse was much more intriguing. Inside was where Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, and Winston Zeddemore lived, breathed, and worked to stop ghosts from taking over New York City.

At the moment, however, these "Ghostbusters" as they called themselves were enjoying a nice lunch of pizza and beer.

"I still can't wrap my mind around it," Peter, the mouthy member of the team, said, raising a bottle of Budweiser to his lips. "First Egon breaks his ankle and doesn't tell anyone about it for two whole weeks. .and then he admits his love for Janine! It's just been insane."

Ray, labeled by Peter as the "heart" of the Ghostbusters, smiled and shook his head. "I feel you, Venkman," he said, as he bit off a large chunk of pepperoni pizza. "Things have been really interesting around here, especially for Spengler. He's really come out of his shell now!"

"But that's good," Winston, often referred to as the strength and will of the group, pointed out. "I mean, yeah, he's still pretty quiet at times, and likes to hang around with his mushrooms. But finding confidence and love seems to have softened his cold demeanor. And that's great!"

Both Ray and Peter nodded in agreement.

"Where is Egon, now that we've mentioned it?" Peter said, looking around for their bespectacled friend. They were all sitting in the Firehouse's downstairs lounge. It was smaller than the one upstairs (which had an awesome pool table) but was more suitable for small gatherings such as this, where they were all just talking and not trying to work at the same time.

"Dunno," Ray said, taking another bite of his pizza. "He said he'd be down here once he readjusted his cast."

A month earlier, in August, Egon had broken his ankle. He had acquired the injury just before the team's battle with Gozer; a sinkhole had opened up in front of Dana Barrett's apartment building, the center of Gozer's power, and had for a few moments swallowed up the team. They had all climbed out almost instantly, however, and with a crowd of onlookers cheering them on, they had proceeded on their way.

Egon, on the other hand, continued to walk around with his injury, not telling the guys. It wasn't until a couple weeks later that Janine Melnitz - the team's secretary - managed to pry the truth out of him. She had also learned other things about Egon that she hadn't known before - he had siblings, and a family, all of whom seemed to have cast him out of their lives because of his beliefs in the paranormal world. Janine had discovered as well that Egon loved her, just as much as she loved him.

And ever since Egon had shown his true feelings, he and Janine had been very, very close.

"I think I can guess what Egon's up to," Winston said, a smile forming on his face.

Peter grinned. "Ooh, Winston, you dog," he said. "And to think you guys find _my_ mind to be in the gutter!"

Ray looked at the two of them blankly. "What're you both talking about?" he asked.

Peter laughed. "Oh come on, Ray! Surely that male testosterone of yours isn't blind to the facts."

"What facts?"

It was Winston's turn to laugh. "Should I break it to him, or should you?" he asked Peter.

"You three better not have eaten all the pizza!" a voice shouted, stopping either man from enlightening the still befuddled Ray. The next instant, Egon appeared, leaning on his crutches for support. Because of the nature and severity of his injured ankle a little less than a month ago, he was required by the doctor to wear a cast on part of his left leg, and have crutches. It was a difficult change, but Egon was managing fairly well, and could still perform experiments in his lab. His doctor had told him to not overwork himself, get plenty of rest (at least 8 hours, not the 14 minutes Egon was so accustomed to) and also to take pain medicine at the appropriate times.

Beside Egon on his right side stood Janine. She had a supportive arm around his back; her free hand had reached out to caress his arm upon arriving in the lounge. Both individuals seemed upbeat and happy to chat.

"Hey, Spengs!" Peter greeted, motioning his friend over to a chair. "Don't worry, there's still plenty of pizza left. Dig in."

Slowly Egon made his way over to the proffered seat, minding where he placed his crutches. Janine helped him, keeping her arm against his back comfortingly. After a moment Egon was able to settle down, while Janine pulled a chair up next to him. His crutches leaned at a safe angle against the table where the team all sat.

"So, any new developments?" Egon asked, as he grabbed a slice of pizza with sausage, olives, and bell peppers and a can of Coca-Cola.

"Well, if you mean if there are any new developments in my sex life, then I'm sorry to say no," Peter replied.

Egon and Ray both rolled their eyes, while Janine and Winston groaned.

"I meant with the ghost traps, Peter," Egon sighed. "You know, the major project that we've been working on for nearly a month now?"

"Okay, okay, sheesh," Peter said. "I was only trying to get you to crack a smile, Egon. No need to be nippy."

"Anyway," Ray said, clearing his throat to render whatever Peter was going to say next a passing curiosity of the imagination. "I've been looking at our new blueprints for the traps, Spengler, and I think I've figured out a way to fix that fault we've been encountering with the closing mechanisms."

The two former psychology professors then went on to discuss their recent observations of the modified ghost traps. Ever since health official Walter Peck destroyed their containment grid, they had had to rely more heavily on the traps for their primary method of spiritual ensnarement. So far they had encountered very few problems, and were even planning on rebuilding the containment grid starting next month.

"So," Peter eventually piped up, finding his chance to tease Egon openly. "When are you and Janine gonna get married, Egon?"

The brains of the Ghostbusters visibly reddened, pushing his glasses higher up his nose in a nervous gesture. Janine, however, was a bit put off, but not as mad as she had been a month ago, when she had nearly destroyed the Firehouse (and Peter) with a proton pack.

"That's none of your business, Dr. Venkman," Janine replied with a touch of coldness.

"Oh c'mon, you two!" Peter insisted, swinging out of his seat so that he could grip the couples' shoulders. "Look, if you want I could be best man. And Ray could be the flower girl."

Egon couldn't help it. He started to laugh. Everyone else followed suited except for Ray, who looked annoyed.

"Totally uncool, Peter," he said.

"Au contraire, mon frere," Peter replied. "You would look dazzling in a frilly pink dress."

* * *

After everyone had their share of pizza, the team went their separate ways, off to do other things. Egon decided to sit with Janine at her desk and spend time with her. They chatted about random things, like the weather, recent ghostbusting cases, and how Peter could get his attitude straightened out. As they talked they also scanned over the latest edition of the _New York Times. _They weren't really searching for anything in particular, but after a time an interesting article on page 5 caught Egon's attention. It read as follows:

**DISAPPEARANCE OF WORKERS AT LOCAL MUSEUM BAFFLES POLICE**

_On the 22nd of September, workers at the New York Museum of World History were reported to have vanished without a trace. Museum curator Charles Moriarty claims that these sudden and unexplained disappearances are the work of an entity known as the Demon. The Demon is an infamous spirit which is said to have inhabitated the Museum since the late 1800s. Whether or not Mr. Moriarty's beliefs can be taken seriously, only the Ghostbusters would be able to guess. The police are still working to gather more details from the only person who this Demon seemed to have left behind, that of 47 year old Dennis Payne, of Western Manhattan. More information will be made public of this singular event as it is discovered._

Talk about fascinating! The guys would want to see this. Egon was certainly eager to find out more. This so-called "Demon" would be an interesting spirit to catch, if these disappearances were indeed due to supernatural causes.

"Is there a Mr. Spengler here?" a timid voice called out suddenly.

Egon and Janine looked up to see a slim youth standing in the doorway of the Firehouse. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and wore the navy blue uniform of a mailman.

"I'm Spengler," Egon called back.

The youth hurried over. "Package for you, sir," he said, handing Egon a rectangular shaped box.

"Thank you," Egon said, then accepted the youth's clipboard to sign off his name. Thus settled, the young mailman turned and hurried away.

Egon quietly slid the newspaper he was reading over to Janine, and looked at the sender's address. His face fell. Looking up, Janine saw the irritated, exhausted gleam in his deep brown eyes.

"Who is it from?" she asked tentatively.

"Elon," Egon groaned. "My brother."

He then turned the box so that Janine could read the written address on the taped on card.

_Elon Spengler_

_93 Murray Drive_

_Chicago, Illinois_

_A/C: 312_

"Your brother lives in Chicago?" Janine said. She was a bit surprised by this, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because some of her own family members resided there.

"Yeah." Egon looked far from pleased with the fact. "I wish he lived farther away, to be honest. I don't like knowing that he could just fly over here in a day or more's time and ruin my life all over again. Speaking of which, he probably rigged this box to squirt hot sauce at me. He did once before."

"Why hot sauce?"

"I'm allergic, and besides, it burns. And he likes seeing me upset by his immature pranks, as well. All in all, he's a sadist. Anyway, I'd better see what he sent me and why he sent it at all. It'll ease my conscious."

Pulling out a pocket knife, Egon cut away the tape. Soon finished, he put down his knife, opened the box flaps, and pulled out what was inside.

He first withdrew a book, which was entitled _The Complete Spotter's Guide for Fungi. _Egon looked at the volume, slightly surprised. He then removed the second and final item - a potted portabella mushroom.

"What in the name of Einstein?" Egon muttered, examining the mushroom specimen. He seemed even more shocked by this real live mushroom than the book, which was understandable really. Mushrooms were one of his areas of expertise.

Janine peered into the box, searching for a card of some sort. There was none. Then, as she picked up the book, a small piece of notebook paper fell out. Janine quickly grabbed it and read what it said.

_Happy early birthday, E.G! Here's a special gift to brighten up that serious soul of yours. :) _

"Wow," Janine said, passing the note over to Egon. "That actually sounds considerate, except for that last part about the serious soul."

Egon snorted, scanning over the note himself. "He prides himself on being thoughtful," he scoffed. "But he's just a cruel monster, if you ask me. He likes to hide it sometimes, but he's cruel nonetheless. Which is why I wonder why he even bothered to get me something at all, and so early at that. My birthday isn't until November. That's hardly the point, though. The point is, why would he contact me after twenty years and try to make amends, if that's even his motive? It's suspicious."

Janine shrugged, not sure what to say.

Egon scowled at the book and the mushroom. "Damn him," he said. "I bet he poisoned this mushroom so I'd get sick. It would be just like him to pull a joke like that."

Janine thought for a moment, looking at the newspaper Egon had slid over to her. Her gaze rested on the article of the disappearing workers. Intrigued, she began to read. When she was done she turned to Egon, who was still staring intently at his estranged brother's supposed gifts.

"Egon," she said.

"Hmm?"

"This article. . .it's very odd."

Egon perked up, his expression looking relieved and eager. "You think so too? I'm rather interested in this Demon creature myself. It sounds like an entity which could be studied at great length."

Pulling the paper closer to him, Janine let Egon read over the article again. When he looked up again he readjusted his glasses, a small smile gracing his face.

"I'll go tell the guys," he said. "This could be big."

He then grabbed his crutches, and with a little help from Janine he was able to stand. He was just about to leave the room when a hand on his chest halted him in his tracks. He looked down at Janine, a little worried frown tugging at his mouth. Before he could ask her what was wrong she cupped his face with one hand and kissed him softly.

As always when he and Janine kissed, Egon's heart soared. Steadying his left crutch with his arm, he reached out and slid his hand against Janine's own face, feeling her warmth and her soft skin. This touch made him feel love for her and feel loved _by_ her_. _

Kissing her made him feel alive.

Their embrace ended too soon, it seemed. As they pulled away Egon smiled warmly, gazing into Janine's eyes. "I'll be back, I promise," he said. "Remember how I came back after the battle with Gozer. Look, I even kept your lucky coin."

Egon reached into his pants pocket and withdrew the coin. It was from the World's Fair in Flushing Meadows, 1964. Janine had given it to him just before the battle, insisting it was for luck. He had told her that he shouldn't take it - after all, what if they didn't come back? Yet they had (thankfully) and now here he was.

"Oh, Egon," Janine said, tears springing to her eyes at the sight of the coin. She had nearly forgotten about it; now all of her feelings from that moment welled inside of her, sorrow and joy mingling, then joy taking over.

Egon, seeing his dear sweetheart become emotional, embraced her tenderly.

"Seems like that luck really paid off after all," he whispered.

* * *

After Janine collected herself, and insisted that Egon still keep her coin with him, Egon decided to tell Ray about the newspaper article first. Of any of his team members Ray was the one who understood him the most, on both a personal and intellectual level, and he felt that he could trust Ray in a way one trusted family. Too bad Ray wasn't his brother instead of Elon. Egon could relate to his colleague more than he ever could with his twin.

Elon was like his alter ego, or his id, to put it in psychological terms. Everything that Egon was, Elon was the opposite. If Egon was reserved and detached, Elon would be outgoing and animated. If Egon was serious, Elon would be obnoxiously silly. That had always driven Egon, his sisters, and his parents crazy, how different he and Elon were.

Biding Janine goodbye, and politely refusing her offer to help him walk, Egon pushed away thoughts of his twin, instead focusing on Ray and the article which he wanted to show him. The newspaper it which it was contained was tucked and folded safely in the pocket of his light blue lab coat.

Egon swung his way to the back offices beyond Peter's desk on the left side, seeking his colleague. He went to the second door on the left, with the plaque card DR. RAY STANTZ hanging upon it, and knocked firmly.

"Ray," Egon called, when he received no answer from within and no greeting at the door. "I need to talk to you."

Still no reply. Sighing, Egon pushed the door open and stepped inside. At the small desk in the upper left-hand corner of the room sat Ray, hunched over a notepad. The desk was situated in way that Egon could see his face. Ray was intense, and totally absorbed in his work. With his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and his hair standing in a wild mess about his head, Egon knew Ray was wrestling with a difficult problem, a problem he would be determined to fix until his dying breath, if necessary.

Maneuvering over to where Ray sat, Egon took the newspaper out of his coat pocket, and tapped his colleague on the head with it to get his attention. Startled, Ray jumped and almost whirled out of his seat. He relaxed as he realized it was only Egon, however.

"Oh, hey Spengler," Ray said, clearing his throat. (He felt a bit embarrassed for being so startled). "What brings you here?"

In response Egon unfolded the newspaper in his hand and plopped it down on Ray's desk. "Read this," he said, pointing to the article which had perked his interest.

Ray pushed his glasses higher up his nose, then lifted the paper up closer to his face in order to read it. The effect was obvious. When he looked up again, Ray had a huge, excited grin on his face.

"We gotta check this out ASAP!" he said eagerly. "Man, whatever this Demon is, it sounds spooky and unusual."

Egon nodded. "Let's go tell Peter and Winston," he said, heading for the door. Grabbing a coat from the back of his chair, Ray quickly followed.

"I'm just curious, Ray," Egon said, as they made their way out of the office area. "What were you working on back there?"

Ray waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, just a theory about the effects of human emotions. No big deal. I'll show it to you after we hit the Museum if you want. I think it could be an interesting topic to expand on."

Egon gave a small smile. "I can't wait to hear it."

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the wait! Hope you liked this next chapter. :)**


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

After informing Peter and Winston of the situation at the museum, the guys swiftly got down to business. Ray suggested that they go in casual clothes, seeing as their priority at the moment was to investigate, not track down and capture a ghost. Until they were certain what they were dealing with, this seemed the most rational option to everyone.

Of any of them, Egon was most thankful that he didn't have to struggle into his Ghostbusting overalls - while it was comfortable, his healing ankle made it very painful to try and put it on. So he was content with what he already wore: dark trousers, gray sweater vest, red tie, and a dark brown trench coat instead of the blue lab coat, which he had shrugged off earlier. Along with his crutches and PKE meter, he was prepared for (almost) anything.

Meanwhile, Ray and Winston double-checked the ghost traps, while they and Egon waited for Peter to finish changing. The closing fault really was a problem, and even if they weren't going to the museum to catch any ghosts just yet, it was an important concern to keep in mind. Besides, if the ghost they were seeking - the "Demon" - decided not to lay low during their visit, they needed to be prepared. Which was why they were also bringing along the proton packs.

"Seems fine now," Ray commented, as he tapped experimentally against one of the traps. "I tweaked a few things earlier this morning, and I think I got most if not everything straightened out with them."

"I don't like being uncertain with these things," Egon said, giving his colleague a serious look. "But at the moment, we really have no choice. The situation we're facing could only worsen if we delay any longer."

Ray nodded, returning the firm, equally serious stare.

Just then Peter reentered the lobby, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, floral necklace, sandals, and a pair of sweatpants that were a hideous shade of blue. As he walked up to the group he lowered his head, peering at them all over the top of his sunglasses.

The others groaned. Peter simply smiled.

"Ayyy," he said in a low, tough voice that sounded a lot like the Fonz. "How's it goin', nerds?"

It was so quiet, one could hear a cricket chirping.

"When I said casual, Venkman, I didn't mean like. . .like_ this_," Ray eventually replied, gesturing to Peter's whole body.

"Hey, I'm the king of casual!" Peter argued lightly. "I'm Mr. Cool, Mr. Slick. . ."

"Mr. Pain-In-Our-Ass is more like it," Winston mumbled.

He, Ray, and Egon burst out laughing. Peter, his ego hurt a bit, adopted a pout face.

"Says you," Peter countered childishly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Says everyone," Egon retorted, rubbing it in even further. "Now get serious, Peter. We have work to do."

"Ugh, fine." Peter unfolded his arms and made for the Ecto-1, which sat a ways off from the group, like a silent sentinel of the Firehouse. "But I'm not changing these clothes!" the mouthy Ghostbuster threw over his shoulder.

"No, of course you're not," Ray murmured so only Winston and Egon could hear, rolling his eyes. "What a little brat. Seriously, it feels like we're looking after a child instead of one of the best parapsychologists in the field."

"You give him way too much credit," Winston said. "If anyone's the best, it's Egon here." He patted Egon on the shoulder with a smile. "Wherever we're in a jam, you're always there to fix it. You're also smart, witty, and know how to put people like Peter in his place."

"Now you're giving _me _too much credit," Egon said, voice cracking, face blushing with embarrassment. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose before going on. "Honestly, Winston. I'm not that great. I mess up, I get distracted. I'm not perfect."

"No one expects you to be perfect, Spengler," Ray said. He was sensing something in his friend, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There was a glimmer of shame and hopelessness in Egon's eyes, of that he thought he saw, as well as. . .what? Fear? Anxiety? Panic? Ray wasn't sure, but he had the feeling that Winston had just touched upon a sensitive subject. And that Egon was uncomfortable about it.

"The truth is, you're not perfect," Ray went on. "Nobody on this whole planet is. If we were perfect, do you think we'd be facing the problems we are now? War, destruction, famine, violence. . .all of those things are caused by imperfect people, who have imperfect ideas and morals. But many tried and are still trying their best to do what's right, those who know they are not perfect and want to help others. And 9 times out of 10, that fact of trying is enough. So don't let yourself down, okay? Because whether or not you see it, me, Winston, and even Peter know that you're great. Maybe one day real soon you'll realize that, and be comforted by the fact that your greatness and imperfection is a source of light and hope for others."

A warm glow touched Egon's eyes. It looked as though he were about to cry. Then a cold mask seemed to come down over his features, hiding his true feelings inside.

"Moving words, Raymond," he said, though he was strangely detached now, and did not seem at all moved. "But we'd better get over to the Museum now."

And with a finality of his stone-cold gaze, Egon turned and swung his way over to the Ecto-1, leaving Ray and Winston to stare after him with a mixture of bewilderment, and genuine concern.

* * *

Janine had been worried about whether or not Egon should join the others in the investigation. She knew that they would be not be catching any paranormal entities unless one happened to come out and threaten them directly - but that didn't mean she still wasn't anxious. As they had been getting ready she had all but begged Egon to stay at the Firehouse and wait for the others. She argued that he wasn't in the best physical condition, and that some more rest would be better for his weary limbs.

Egon had politely refused this, saying that during their outing he was simply going to observe and record data with the PKE meter, and that it was important in discovering what had happened to the Museum workers. After attempting to persuade him with any other excuse she could think of, Janine had given up. Her parting farewell as he and the team had climbed into the Ecto-1 had included a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a piece of advice regarding his ankle: watch out for potholes. . .because who knew? There was a possibility he could fall into one and not be able to pull himself out. In the meantime, Janine herself would wait for their safe return.

Now, as Ray swerved through the less crowded back streets of New York City, Egon couldn't help but smile. He never thought he would be able to feel this - feel love for a woman. He had slowly been breaking down his mental fortress over the years, but now. . .now it had been all but obliterated, as if some mental army of his had went it and blown it up with dynamite. Not that he minded really. He'd hated his "mind palace," as his father had often called it.

Prison was a more accurate term, because it had trapped Egon for most of his life. He would've become completely like his father if it had not been for his love of parapsychology, and his desire to be different from many of his family members, who were either scientists, doctors, or regular psychologists. His siblings had chosen slightly different professions.

His sister Evona was a researcher and astronomer for NASA (their father had disapproved of her occupation choice as well, insisting Evona believed in aliens and UFOs and such). Egon's other sister Ebony was a doctor (he had always thought Ebony to be strange, and not because she was adopted; it was because Egon had had a terrifying experience at a hospital and had developed a strong phobia of such places and people ever since). Finally his twin brother Elon was an environmentalist.

His family aside, Egon was feeling great. He was finally free of his father's influence, he was in love with Janine, and he had friends who cared about him as a person. And other than Elon sending him an "early birthday present," (the contents of which he had run multiple toxicology tests on, to frustratingly no avail) Egon felt this day was going by beautifully. Just as long as their visit to the Museum didn't entail actually capturing a spirit, he knew the day would be even more fantastic.

Besides, he had promised to go out to dinner with Janine after they returned. It certainly wouldn't look good if Egon came back covered in ectoplasm. Hence he would not get involved - in the busting aspect at least.

And in no time at all it seemed, Ray turned into the Museum parking lot, the mighty and mysterious edifice itself looming above them in all its marbled magnificence. A large banner strung between two of the massive pillars announced an upcoming exhibit called "_The Secrets of Ancient Egypt," _with the name of the museum printed under it.

"This looks like the place," Ray said, peering out of the windshield as they slowly drove through the lot.

The rest of the guys looked through the car windows as they rolled past. The Museum was mostly white colored marble with flecks of black - and seemed structurally sound, as far as Egon could tell from a distance. It reminded him also of Columbia University's Library, which made him wonder if the Museum was as grand on the inside as it was outside.

_We'll soon find out, _he thought, as the Ecto-1 rolled neatly into a handicapped space.

"Yo, Ray!" Peter called, climbing out quickly. "This is a zone for elderly people with walkers and wheelchairs! Why are did ya' park here? Do you really not like elderly people and wanna give 'em a hard time, huh?"

"Handicapped spaces aren't just for "elderly" people, Peter," Winston said, as he helped Egon down from the back. "As it happens, we have an injured man to think about and take care of. Or did you not notice the crutches and cast he's been forced to have for nearly a month?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Like hell I noticed," he mumbled. "Jeez, you people need to relax. Seriously. I can't say one joke anymore without you all getting up on my back about it."

"It's because you're an ass, Venkman," Ray replied plainly. "And frankly, we all think it's best if you keep your mouth shut when and if at all possible."

Nothing else needed to be said - Peter was floored.

As they headed off towards the Museum, Egon gave his colleague Ray a sideways smirk.

"What?" Ray said, noticing the look.

"Nicely handled, Dr. Stantz," Egon said, giving him a slightly awkward bump on the arm while trying to hang onto his crutch for support.

Ray smiled. "Thanks, Spengler. _Doctor _Spengler, I should say," he added with a laugh.

Egon managed a chuckle, and gripped the PKE meter that was in his hand even more tightly. He wondered what results this visit to the Museum would yield - if these strange disappearances had really been the work of a spirit, or if another solution was possible. Either way, he hoped that - if there _was _a ghost of some kind lurking within the Museum walls - that it would lay low for them, the intruders seeking it out.

And if it didn't lay low, and decided to attack, Egon's only wish was that it would get Peter first.

* * *

When the Ghostbusters walked into the Museum, they were greeted almost instantly by a round, nervous looking man in a suit that did not hide or tone down his obvious obesity. Half-moon spectacles were perked on the edge of the man's nose, and upon seeing the Ghostbusters he waddled over, the glasses threatening to topple from his face.

"Oh, oh my!" the man squeaked in a British accent, promptly shaking each of their hands. He was very sweaty, which showed in the disgusting amount of the stuff which rubbed off on each of the team member's palms.

"You. . .you must be the Ghostbusters!" the man exclaimed. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands now, for they fidgeted agitatedly in front of him. "I recognize you lot from the telly. Dr. Venkman, I think - " The man turned to Peter, who nodded with a smug smile. " - Ray Stands - " Now to Ray, who cleared his throat.

"It's _Stantz, _actually," Ray corrected.

"Oh, f-forgive me, dear chap," the man seemed genuinely apologetic for the mistake. He then turned to Winston. "Um, let me see. . .Zeddemore, right?"

Winston nodded. "Yes, sir. Winston Zeddemore."

The man nodded in satisfaction, clearly happy that he had not made another error. Finally he turned his plump self towards Egon, who nodded his head slightly with acknowledgment.

"And how could I forget?" the man said, his polite smile turning into a full-out grin. "Dr. Egon Spengler! I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Spengler. Your attempt of self-harm by trepanation was very interesting, I must say. You know, I actually did some research on that and found it to be q-quite fascinating! I didn't realize drilling a hole through one's skull is said to make you smarter!"

Egon was caught off guard by the man's zeal, and by his knowledge of his personal past. No one was supposed to know about that incident except Peter and Ray. It had been a stupid stunt he had pulled back at Columbia. He had been researching dolphins and of course, trepanning. He had theorized that dolphins were more intelligent because of their blowholes, and while looking up information about trepanning, had realized that such practices of making a hole in human heads had been tried for various reasons. From that information, Egon had gathered that doing this could possibly give an individual more intelligence.

Of course, Egon had wanted to test this himself. If Peter and Ray hadn't come into his dorm room one night, a drill running in his hand as he leaned over his desk, Egon would have succeeded in testing his theory. Looking back, he realized what he had been about to do was ridiculous and dangerous, and that he would've died had his colleagues not been there for him.

After talking him out of it, Egon had promised Ray and Peter never to tell anyone about the incident. Since then they had not spoken of it all. But now. . .this man, whom they all had never met, somehow knew about Egon's past?

"I've never told anyone of that, except for my close colleagues," Egon replied, studying the man with a closer eye. "How is it that _you _know?"

The man fiddled with his hands again, uncomfortable with the obvious questions. "I. . .I used to be a staff member at Columbia University," he explained anxiously. "Not for very long, mind you. A week or two at most. B-But I heard rumors and such from the other students and staff. . .gossip, really. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Dr. Spengler. My sincere apologies."

Egon nodded, but he was not entirely convinced by the man's flimsy cover-story. "I don't think we caught your name," he said, diverting the subject to other matters for the time being.

"Charles Moriarty," the man answered, straightening himself out a little. "C-Curator of this fine Museum."

Peter reached out to shake Moriarty's hand again, then thought better of it. Then, slapping a hand onto his shoulder, he said in an almost psychiatrist-like tone, "So, Charlie, what seems to be your problem?"

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for not updating in awhile! Here's the next chapter. :) **

**The one after this shall start to get into more of the action, so stay tuned for more (hopefully soon)! **


End file.
